


What are you doing here anyway?

by SpaceNightwing



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Brotherly Love, Jason has a potty mouth, Jason is a good brother, bruce is an ass, dealing with grief, dick is drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-30 00:17:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12642201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceNightwing/pseuds/SpaceNightwing
Summary: Writing prompt for dialogue "What are you doing here anyway?"Jason finds Dick in a place he's not supposed to be. Why? Their father is the king of pricks.Brotherly bonding, drunken Dick Grayson and protective Jason Todd ensues.





	What are you doing here anyway?

**Author's Note:**

> Note 1: Huge thank you to marvelgirl411 and conchacunt for beta help! You guys rock thank you thank you thank you!  
> Note 2: This is my first fan fic post please be nice.

Jason likes this bar. It's in the heart of the Narrows, so it's not exactly the best place to snag a date and the quality of alcohol is pitiful on a good day; but it's cheap as hell and it's the perfect place to go when he's trying to avoid a particular bat and his cult following. On the accusations the Bat does find himself in this part of the city, Gotham's protector prefers to watch from the rooftops above, rather than actually be a part of the city he claims to love. So imagine Jason’s surprise when he walks into the bar to celebrate a particular annoying drug bust and sees the Golden Boy himself.

Jason spends a good minute and a half deliberating what to do. He comes to this bar for the sole purpose of avoiding the Bats. But he can't think of a reason Dick would show up in this dump. It's not even Nightwing looking to get answers for a case. It's Dick Grayson drowning himself in a couple of empty shot glasses and whatever he's currently nursing. 

It’s not like Jason wants to be Dick's shoulder to cry on. He doesn't want to be anyone's shoulder to cry on! Maybe Barbra's… or Cass's. Maybe, if he's in the mood and the need to cry was world crashing. But Dick is in a place he is clearly not supposed to be, doing something that is uncharacteristically crazy for him. 

Worse, right behind Bruce, Dick has one of the most recognizable faces in Gotham (one if the consequences of growing up under the shadow of Wayne Manor and Wayne Tower) and there are a lot of people in this bar who would like to take a crack at such a face; either to hold him for ransom or to symbolically smack frustration into the face of Gotham elite for so-called charity work. Jason could see both happening. Or at least, attempted; no one in this bar could take on a Bat, even if Dick looks ready to blackout. Some people are already giving him some side looks that make Jason uneasy.

All this considered, Jason decides to take pity on the drunken brother. He walks up to the nearest end of the bar and asks for a draft beer. It's not exactly the liquor he's looking for to celebrate the bust, but it's better than nothing. After getting the cheap drink, he slides a stool next to Dick and claps him on the shoulder. That was a mistake.

Dick whips around and pulls a gun. "Dude!" Jason yells. "What the fuck you doing?"

"Jay?" Dick slurs. The gun dips towards the ground. Before Dick can do any damage with something he’d hate himself for, Jason grabs the top of the gun and pulls it out of his hand. He goes to unload it but finds the gun empty.

“What the actual hell Dickface?" If Dick is carrying around a gun, empty or not, it's worse than Jason originally thought. Jason’s not sure if he's okay with the fact that he got involved in something clearly out of his depth, but Dick clearly needs help.

"I didn't feel like becoming ransom." Dick's words spill out of his mouth without much control.

"So you carry around an unloaded gun? That doesn’t scare anyone in this town, you know that." Dick's response is a half shrug as his head falls onto his chest. "Do I even want to ask how much you've had to drink?" It takes him a few seconds, but Dick finally holds up four fingers. Jason doesn't believe that for a second. He looks to the bartender: a 50 some year old man who doesn’t seem to be paying attention to anything. "How much has he had?" Jason asks.

"Four," the bar tender answers.

"Four what?"

"Four tequila shots."

"Damn it, Dick." His brother may have been raised in galas, but he's still one the worst light weights Jason knows. Two shots of tequila tend to put Dick in a bad spot. This won't be a pretty night. Jason takes Dick's half full drink right out of his hand and takes a sip of straight whiskey. After letting the burn die down, he looks back to the man behind the bar and yells "why the hell would you give him a glass of whisky?!"

The old bar tender’s tired response is "I ain't his babysitter," and goes back to what he was doing before. 

When Dick reaches out to take the whisky back, Jason slides it down the opposite end of the bar. It nearly falls completely off. "Asshole," Dick mumbles. Before he can attempt to oder a new one Jason stops him. 

“The fuck you doing Dick?"

"None of your bees-wax little wing."

"Okay, are we twelve?" Dick's incredibly mature response is to stick his tongue out. "Do not make me be the big brother here."

It's a deep cut and Jason knows it. Dick's not exactly the best big brother, but he's been trying, much to Jason's protest. It started when he came back from the dead. Dick had been in too much of a pissing contest with Bruce to be much of a brother to Jason when he was alive the first time. When the long lost Robin returned, Dick took it upon himself to be "the brother Jason deserved" (and never wanted or needed).

"Don’t go there," Dick spits with bitterness. His face is pinched tight. But whether that pained expression is from Jason's insult or whatever caused this mood in the first place, Jason doesn't know. Probably both.

"Then don't act like it." Dick gives him the infamous Bat glare, which has little effect on a fellow former Bat, but at least he’s focused on something other than getting a new glass. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"B's full of shit."

"I could have told you that. I have told you that. But none of his shittyness has ever caused you, of all people, to do this. You've taken my spot at my bar and pulled gun. That’s my job. So what gives?"

Dick swallows hard. He takes a moment to collect himself then asks, "You know what day it is?"

"Ummm… Sunday…? Does it matter?"

"No. What date, Jay?"

Jason takes a second to think about. Soon realization dawned on him, resulting in him wanting to shove his fist into Bruce's skull.

Dick can see when Jason realizes the significance of the date. His response is to huff out a breath of hot air and pick up an old shot glass. Ignoring the fact that the glass is empty, Dick puts it to his lips, attempting to drink away reality. 

Not needing or wanting to address the date, Jason asks, "What did he do?"

"Doesn't matter. I'll get over it."

"No you won't.”

"Nope. Honestly, I'll bury it. But what matters is the day he chose to be an ass."

Jason can’t argue with that. After a moment of silence, Jason asks, “Have you visited them today?" It's not a topic he wants to touch with a ten foot pole, but he'll go there for his grieving brother's sake.

"Yep. Still six feet under. Not much has changed."

And that's the saddest truth to the situation. No matter how many time Jason visits his mom, or how many flowers Dick takes to his parents on birthdays and anniversaries, no matter how many times Bruce broods over the Wayne family cemetery, the dead will stay buried; in all cases except him, it seems. People say that time heals, but it that's the case, time is taking its sweet ass fucking time for all of them. Bruce knows exactly what watching parents die does to one's mind, even years and years after the event. Why he would choose today of all days to be a prick? Simply letting the date slip his mind isn't an excuse for the World's Greatest Detective. The goddamn time of his own parents death is the code to get into the man's personal military base for crying out loud. Forgetting one of the most important dates to your first adopted son is inexcusable. Hell, as depressing as it is, it's this date that brought Dick to Bruce; that brought Robin to Batman. The man has some fucking nerve.

This isn't the time or place to take Jason’s anger out on Bruce. For one, Bruce isn't even here. Second, Dick needs help now. This is not normal for him and a choice few low-lives are again glancing at Dick with malice in the eyes. He's wants to get Dick out of here.

"Come on Dickiebird-"

"I'm not going to the manor. Or my place. I don't wanna see 'im."

"I'm an asshole Dickface; I'm not a monster. You're coming to my place. He won't bother you there."

Dick hesitates, but after a moment, he nods slowly and allows Jason to help him stand up. After assuring the bartender that he'll pay the tab tomorrow, Jason grabs his brother into a side hug and all but drags his brother to his motorcycle outside. 

Getting him on the bike isn't easy, but it's a hell of a lot easier than getting the acrobat up five flights of steps. His flexibility has always freaked Jason out, and when he's this out of it, Dick has very little control over him limbs. It's like trying to get cooked spaghetti to stand up straight. But after about an hour of cursing and sheer determination, Jason is able to lie Dick down in his bed. He puts a trash can right next to Dick's faces and adds, "You throw up on my bed, you die Big Bird” before taking to the couch for the night.

The next morning, Jason is thoroughly entertained by making fun of a very hungover Nightwing, migraine be damned. Red Hood did miss out on celebrating his drug bust after all.


End file.
